Sunday, 2 November 2008

Steve. It’s been a while since I’ve posted about Steve. Don’t worry... it’s not going to be one of those posts; where I decide I want him back again and know I can’t. We’re well and truly not together anymore, and it’s going ok. I do miss him, some times more than others, but our sporadic txt-exchange keeps me sane and allows me to feel like I’ve not lost him completely.

It’s just, this weekend really brought the realisation home that, well, I’m leaving really soon. It’s like leaving for university again, except I won’t be going home at Christmas, and I won’t be nipping home for friends’ birthdays or if I get homesick. I know I’ll make fantastic friends that will become family substitutes, but I have commitment issues. As in, I commit forever. Once I’ve let you in, there’s no way I’m letting go. So... leaving people is going to be hard. And costly, because I’ll end up calling and txting and writing one hell of a lot!

With regards to Steve; I won’t be saying goodbye how I always thought I would. When I pictured leaving I thought we’d still be together (and probably break up because of it). The last time I saw him, in Doncaster, it was a dead cert that I’d be paying him a visit before I went. To say goodbye. We looked up train times and prices. But after our big blown out of proportion argument over the summer, that idea just went out of the window.

The night of that argument*, Steve made Paul find me to take me back home. We ended up walking around Cockermouth for hours because we got lost. Our conversation was pretty intense. Paul basically told me that he didn’t think Steve and I should be together... I don’t want it to sound like it was him saying that that made me realise - he didn’t persuade me - but it really did make it hit home. When Steve and I broke up in the past, friends would agree that it “was probably for the best” or “if you think it’s the right decision” – always something terribly non-committal. But to have someone tell you outright and confirm what I’d already decided... I don’t know, there were some things he said that made me realise that we really did have to call it a day. There was something in the way he talked about Steve, and the effect I had on him, that made it clear to me that I had to leave him alone. There are only so many times I can fuck with his head.

So we’ll have no grand goodbye. When I said goodbye in Doncaster it was nothing; just a hug and a kiss. It was a “see you soon”, not a “this is the last time I’ll ever see you”. And now I can’t do it; it’s too late. We’re too far removed from each others' lives to justify visiting one another. I doubt I could afford the train anyway.

Photos of him are still on my wall. Do I take them to France with me? I guess I should leave them.

Ugh. I’m so tired and emotional so tears are falling too easily. I just watched Don’t Tell The Bride and blubbed when she put her dress on for fuck’s sake.